.....woke up shell-shocked and alarmed. starting to feel like i'm being controlled. every man needs a path to walk, a woman's touch, and a pot of gold. my path has become worn down to the dirt. any top soil is gone. the true earth is walked. and drove. over and over. my path is a circle, it seems. mentally, however, the circle creates a wonder. the many lives of uneasiness. a good and congenial soul. at peace and rest. a woman's face of desperation and worry. alone and shaking at the world's monsters. grateful she is for the confidence. understanding the endurance required. she makes a house and keeps a home. stands by her truth and keeps the commands. only herself she guards. like a wasted garden. left to restlessness and glances. a poor man with a bank of cash. perseverance rewarded. the circle proved fruitful, and the vows rang true. our desires and natures hibernate to another season. our brains conducting it all. it's windows always open and peering. the eyes seeing the wanted, the ears hearing the moans, the mouth tasting the sweet and sour, the hands feeling life, the smell of daisies, and a loss of control....